


Bloodhound

by HomunculusTrashParty



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Gavin Reed, Casual Sex, Feral Behavior, First Time, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Gavin Reed, Scent Kink, Sexual Frustration, Top Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Virgin Connor (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:01:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28433568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HomunculusTrashParty/pseuds/HomunculusTrashParty
Summary: Deviancy had changed a lot of things for Connor, but discovering that he was an alpha was the last thing he expected.Well. Aside from his attraction to Gavin Reed.Or: Connor goes into rut for the first time.
Relationships: Connor/Gavin Reed
Comments: 14
Kudos: 144





	Bloodhound

It had started with Connor minding his own business.

Adjusting to deviancy wasn’t easy. There were so many emotions—dozens, if not hundreds!—and managing them all was making Connor’s head spin. He couldn’t fathom how all the humans he knew were able to keep them in check. Then again, perhaps that was the evolutionary purpose of childhood: to prepare humans for adulthood by teaching them how to manage their responses appropriately enough to live in a society. Connor, without the benefit of childhood, was on his own for the most part.

Of course, there was the socializing he did with his friends at Jericho—Markus, North, Simon—as well as his relationship with Hank, who had been kind enough to let Connor move in with him. Connor was grateful to know so many kind, good people who forgave him when he erred, because it was more frequent than he liked to admit.

Eventually, as time went on, he’d slowly adjusted; the rash outbursts had leveled off, and he had managed to only start a fight with Hank once. The rage he felt at the comparative inaction of the United States government in granting rights to androids had begun to slowly dissipate. Hank, being in his fifties, had managed to find ways to express his dismay; Connor wasn’t sure if they were healthy or constructive ways, but he’d attempted to make them work for himself. Drinking was impossible, but cursing many times in a single sentence had proven helpful.

However, despite all of his progress, there was one human emotion he had never expected to have to grapple with, and this time, he wasn’t sure he could ask Hank for help.

It was two o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday, and Connor was tossing and turning on Hank’s couch with a bulge in his sweatpants that was impossible to ignore. He had tried to go into stasis several times, but each period had only lasted minutes, and he’d since given up. Was it a malfunction of some kind? Was he damaged? Was deviating a mistake?

Connor fretted for a little while longer, then decided to do some research. Had other deviants experienced this? Did humans experience this? Connor knew he had been designed in the image of a human male. Were human males kept up at night like this?

He did some reading. Evidently, one of the growth stages of human males involved sexual development, and frequent erections—now he had a name for it—were common. Connor breathed a sigh of relief. So, this wasn’t a bug, it was a feature. But why was it included? He wasn’t a Traci model, designed for pleasure, and he couldn’t reproduce. Connor decided to ponder it at a later date; Elijah Kamski was likely the only person who had any idea why Connor might be capable of erections, and Connor was not interested in speaking with him. Erections, he’d learned, were a private matter. They were not appropriate conversation with a business associate. And Connor didn’t trust Kamski.

Hoping Hank’s WiFi didn’t log his web traffic, Connor queried the internet about how to get rid of an erection. He was met with a dizzying array of photos, videos, instructional guides, and stories about masturbation. Feeling overwhelmed and embarrassed, he selected a video of a human man who looked to be about twenty-five years old. The man was lying in bed naked, and he appeared to be fully erect. Connor watched curiously as the man wrapped one hand around himself and began to stroke up and down.

Perhaps if Connor tried the same technique…

Connor went to palm the outside of his sweatpants, then stopped. What if Hank woke up and saw or heard him? Surely he would be embarrassed by Connor, or at the least, find it very strange.

Connor sighed and tried to close his eyes again, but within seven minutes he was awake. He’d barely be functional at work at this rate. He’d just have to take the risk and hope that Hank was a heavy sleeper, or else his productivity would suffer, and he couldn’t have that.

Hesitantly, Connor went to palm himself again, and felt a soft whimper at his lips. Admonishing himself to stay quiet, he slipped one hand under the waistband of his sweatpants and caressed his hard cock through his underwear. His hips bucked up to meet the touch, and he had to keep from making noise again. 

Glancing around and seeing neither Hank nor Sumo anywhere near the living room, Connor slowly slid his sweatpants and boxer briefs down to his knees. His cock lay against his abdomen, stiff and sensitive. Connor wrapped one hand around it and almost moaned. He clumsily stroked up and down, wincing at the oversensitivity, then spotted a pump bottle of lotion on one of the end tables. Connor took some of it and applied it to his cock, then allowed himself a soft sigh at how it felt to be slippery, easing his hand up and down, the glide much smoother this time. 

He fell back, stroking himself faster. It felt so good, and he’d been tense for days, struggling to stay in stasis at night, having a hard time concentrating at work during the day. The lotion in his palm made noise as he jerked himself, but that was a risk he’d have to take, and it was worth it, this felt incredible, and he could feel it building into something, building and building and—oh—!

Connor’s head flew back as he stifled a cry and felt his balls tighten. Warm liquid shot onto his chest, and his whole body buzzed with energy, trembling as he came down from the high.

It was incredible.

Connor got cleaned up, and slept well that night.

Unfortunately, the relief didn’t last for long.

Connor had spent most of his morning in peace and relative calm—by DPD standards, anyway—but by lunchtime, the tension had returned. He wasn’t erect yet, which was lucky, but he knew it was only a matter of time. He’d read that human males experienced inconvenient erections, but typically they occurred during adolescence. It would be strange and no doubt highly inappropriate for Connor to experience one at work. He hoped desperately that he could just contain his feelings until he got home and Hank went to bed.

He did not get his wish.

At 3:45 pm, Connor went to stand up from his desk to return a coworker’s pen and noticed that his pants were too tight. He glanced furtively down and felt a wave of shame and anxiety as he saw how his erection bulged out the front of his jeans. He wished dearly that his jacket could close over it and stay that way, but it had no closures and he feared that it wouldn’t cover enough. There was also the issue of sensitivity. Connor shifted in his seat and had to keep from hissing as the fabric of his boxer briefs shifted over his cock. For the first time since deviating, he suddenly longed to be a machine again, just to avoid the embarrassing predicament he was in. 

Perhaps he could just sit at his desk until the erection wore off. They wore off eventually, right? He could just stay put, and surely by the time he got off work, it’d be gone and he could return to normal.

“Hey! Connor!”

Connor shut his eyes. He was _not_ in the mood for Detective Reed’s harassment. What if Reed saw him in such a state? He’d never let Connor live it down.

“I’m talking to you, asshole!”

Connor cringed and opened his eyes. “What is it, Detective Reed?”

Reed stood near Connor’s desk, looming over him with a smug expression. “Where’s that pen I loaned you? Need it back. Why the fuck does an android need a pen, anyway?”

Connor handed Reed the pen. Maybe he didn’t need to get out of his seat after all. 

Reed snatched the pen out of his hand with a glare and walked away, muttering to himself as he went.

_That was a close one,_ Connor thought. He squirmed a little in his seat, and tried not to whimper. His cock was crying out for attention, and he simply couldn’t give it what it craved. Not now.

Finally, five o’clock rolled around, and Connor could go home with Hank.

However, that required getting up from his desk, and while he had softened somewhat, there was still a visible bulge.

Taking a deep breath he didn’t need, Connor stood up from his desk and tugged his jacket closed. It did not stay closed, as he’d known it wouldn’t, but it was worth a try. However, he had to get a hold of himself. Hank had already commented on his stiff “robotic” body language. Connor felt so self-conscious, and the vulnerability brought on by forbidden arousal only made it worse.

But when Hank came to drive them home, he didn’t notice or say anything, and Connor managed to take his mind off of the feeling until Hank went to bed.

Then he threw himself back on the couch and jerked his cock desperately until he came, unable to completely stifle the moan this time.

The next day, Connor woke up feeling much better. Maybe now, he could focus. It was terribly inconvenient—not to mention risky—to have to masturbate every night and hope Hank didn’t hear it, but it could be done, until such time as Connor no longer needed to do it. Or until androids were able to rent and own their own property, eliminating the issue of Connor potentially getting caught.

That was a long way off, though. Surely Connor’s new deviant… _urges_ wouldn’t plague him every single night.

He was grateful to not be hard at work this time. His functionality was fully restored, and he could walk around without drawing suspicion. 

As Connor waited for Hank to get back from his lunch break, he did an online search for outerwear. Now that he was free of CyberLife’s control, he could dress as he pleased, and if these new urges were going to be commonplace, he needed a jacket with closures.

Connor selected a few different blazers that were similar to his own in color and style and added them to his cart. Payment arrangements for android labor were still in flux, but he had an expense account from CyberLife with funds in it. Before long, a CyberLife employee would no doubt notice Connor’s account and reallocate the funds, but they essentially belonged to him for the time being. He might as well spend them; they owed it to him.

Connor added other new items to his order: loungewear, underwear, a few more pairs of pants, socks, shoes, dress shirts, and sweaters for the office in winter.

The order totaled well over a thousand dollars USD.

Connor smiled and submitted it. It would arrive the next morning before work. He’d begin to wear the new blazers ASAP, just in case the urges came back. Besides, he’d been working at the DPD as a deviant for weeks now. Surely it was time to move on from wearing a uniform that was covered in logos and branding as though he were an object.

Connor decided that it was time for his twice-daily appearance check, and went into the men’s restroom.

He fixed his tie in the mirror, running his fingers through his hair and attempting to tuck that unruly lock of hair back, but it insisted on falling to his forehead like it always did. Sighing, he gave up and studied himself in the mirror for a few more moments, then went to head back to his desk.

He was halfway back to the bullpen when the sensors in his nose detected a scent that was completely novel.

Connor stopped walking suddenly, much to the chagrin of a man who had been walking behind him, and focused. What was the smell? Connor’s olfactory programming rifled through its database in an attempt to identify the unfamiliar scent, but there was no match. Worse still, he didn’t even know where to begin looking for something that wasn’t in his database. He was a state-of-the-art prototype. He was the most advanced machine CyberLife had ever built. Yet whatever he had smelled was not in his database.

It occurred to Connor, during his ride home from work with Hank, that perhaps he was a little too fixated on this subject. But as time went on, he’d felt more and more at a loss. First the erections, now this. Was he malfunctioning after all?

“Penny for your thoughts,” Hank said, out of the silence, and Connor jolted.

“I’m fine,” he said, a little too quickly.

“Never said you weren’t,” Hank clarified gently.

“Oh. Right. Hank… can I ask you something?” Connor glanced over at Hank. He didn’t appear to be in a bad mood; in fact, he’d been feeling better lately than Connor had ever seen him.

“Sure, Connor.” Hank turned on the windshield wipers in a semi-futile attempt at keeping the evening’s flurries at bay.

“Will you tell me if I ever stop functioning optimally?”

Hank’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What does that even mean?”

Connor’s face fell. Did Hank not understand? “I mean…”

“Connor. Listen. Whatever’s worrying you… it’s gonna be fine, okay?” Hank’s voice was deep and soothing, and the practiced reassurance from years of fatherhood made its way into Connor’s turbulent mind and began to untie the knots of anxiety that had formed there. 

Connor took a deep breath into his artificial lungs, and let it back out slowly. “Okay.”

“If anything breaks, your friends got spare parts, right?”

“Yes,” Connor began, “but nothing about me is broken.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Connor considered. Hank did have a point. So far, nothing that had happened was indicative of biocomponent failure. Maybe he was just worrying for nothing. There were a lot of scents in the world, too many to come standard with his database, detective android or no. Connor decided to put it out of his mind. Probably someone’s cologne or sweat.

He enjoyed a pleasant evening with Hank, watching sports and occasionally talking shop, until Hank went to bed and Connor was once again left alone with his thoughts.

He dug in his temp files to find any data he could about the scent, and ran it through his database again. _Nothing._ Not a thing.

Connor added the scent to his database, labeling it with a question mark, and went to get ready to go into stasis.

The next morning, Connor awoke to a notification that his new clothes were at Hank’s front door.

He got up excitedly and retrieved the package, trying not to rip it open in his enthusiasm, and tried on all the items. Fit wasn’t an issue—he had been designed with industry standards taken into consideration—but style was subjective and he was pleased to discover that he looked good in every item he had chosen.

Connor selected a new blazer in the same color as his CyberLife one to wear to work that day, and chose a new pair of jeans in a slightly darker wash. He wasn’t quite ready to change every item at once. He was so used to wearing the same items every day that a complete change would be too jarring when he already felt unstable due to the changes in his body. But this blazer could close in the front and stay closed, and it was the same length as his old one, give or take an inch, and that was all that mattered. Because while Connor hadn’t gotten hard yesterday, he knew it was only a matter of time before his _urges_ came back to haunt him and interfere with his productivity.

At about ten a.m., Connor noticed that scent again, permeating the precinct, stronger this time.

He immediately rose from his chair and tried to identify its source. What was it, and where was it coming from? He’d analyzed its components and found it to be organic in origin, not synthetic, but that was all he’d been able to glean from it.

Connor followed the scent around the precinct, from the bullpen to the break room to the men’s room to the break room again, and finally up to the archives on the third floor. The scent was slightly stronger in the elevator, and Connor found himself breathing deeply, trying to get as much of it in contact with his sensors as possible. What was it? It felt almost like a drug. Connor felt his processing slow just a little bit, felt the drive to continue to seek it out. He had to know where it was coming from.

He reached the archives and felt a faceful of scent hit him all at once. Oh, _fuck._ The source had to be here, but what could it be? Aging photographs? The ink from fingerprints? The scent of vintage copy paper from the files they were unable to digitize?

Connor let himself drift through the long aisles of floor-to-ceiling case folders, then felt someone shove him to the side.

“Outta my way, tin can,” Gavin Reed growled, as he pushed past Connor to get to the other end of one of the aisles, and Connor’s sensors flooded with that scent. Whatever its chemical composition was, it was so pleasing, so—

“What the fuck are you looking at, Connor? You fry a circuit?”

Connor blinked, his processors sluggish from all of the sensory data he was taking in. “Detective Reed. I apologize.” Was the scent coming from Reed? Cologne, perhaps?

Reed snorted and went back to looking for the file.

“Is—is that cologne you’re wearing?” Connor blurted out awkwardly. Why did he care? Why did he need to know so badly?

Reed scowled. “No. I don’t wear cologne. And it’s none of your goddamn business, prick.”

Connor could barely think. His mind palace felt like it had been overcome with fog. “I see. I’ll let you be on your way.”

Reed muttered something else, and Connor pretended to be looking for archive materials until Reed found the file he was looking for and stormed off.

Then Connor went and stood in the exact spot Gavin had occupied, and inhaled deeply.

It was then that he realized he’d gotten hard, at some point while he’d been up there with Reed, and his cock was painfully held against his thigh. He’d need to adjust it in the restroom.

Having found a stall, he closed the door and delicately opened his blazer. He’d better not be seen in here; given that he had no use for a restroom, it would be cause for suspicion, or at least annoyance. But all he was here to do was adjust himself in his pants so he could be more comfortable, and then he needed to get back to work. He’d wasted enough time already.

Except once his pants were open, and his hand was on his hard cock, all Connor wanted to do was stroke.

_Fuck. I can’t. Not here._

But he was frozen in place, standing breathlessly silent in the stall, one hand wrapped around his cock, his thirium pump beating rapidly in his chest.

He needed it.

But he couldn’t, he just _couldn’t._

Connor tried to tuck himself back in his pants, but even the tiniest amount of stimulation made his eyes roll back in his head and a soft whimper form in the back of his throat. Fuck. He _needed_ it. 

But he was at work. In a bathroom stall.

Then the door slammed open and Connor was nearly knocked onto the floor by that scent again.

It was Reed. It had to be Reed. But he’d said it wasn’t cologne, so what was it?

Connor tuned out the intimate sounds Reed made at one of the urinals and took a couple of deep breaths once he could hear the water at the sink running as Reed washed his hands. Then he heard the door open and close, and then, driven by the presence of Reed’s scent, Connor began to stroke.

He inhaled greedily, wanting as many particles in his olfactory sensors as possible as he jerked himself in short, tight strokes. Was he attracted to Reed himself? It was doubtful. Reed was unpleasant, though he was attractive. It was just Connor’s strange urges, this corrupting desire and need. That was all.

Connor was grateful that the restroom was empty, because when he came this time, he was unable to keep from moaning deeply and loudly as he shot his load all over the toilet seat.

As the pleasure slowly dissipated, it was replaced with shame. How could Connor do this in such a public place? At _work?_

But had he even had a choice? His body had demanded it. He wouldn’t have been able to get any work done at all. Whatever was going on with Reed to make him smell so good… Connor needed to ignore it from now on. He needed to stay away from Reed as much as possible. He couldn’t risk this happening again.

Connor cleaned up the mess he’d made and used some of his saliva to sterilize the surfaces that his artificial semen had come into contact with. It was unnecessary, but it made him feel better. He cleaned himself up as best he could, then washed his hands, pointedly ignored the remaining scent in the air, and got back to work.

The rest of the day was uneventful, but Connor could still smell Reed everywhere he went, in every corner of the precinct.

“Did you have an errand this morning to run or something?” Hank asked mildly once they’d gotten home from work.

Connor startled. “What do you mean?”

“You were gone for almost an hour earlier today. Started to worry about you. I know Reed’s been an asshole to you ever since you started working with us,” Hank explained.

Oh.

“I’m fine,” Connor reassured him. “I—I did run into Detective Reed, but nothing happened. Nothing at all.”

“Okay, good. But you let me know if he ever starts shit with you, all right?” Hank clapped one of Connor’s shoulders.

“Of course, Lieutenant,” Connor replied, removing his shoes and hanging up his jacket and tie in the hall closet.

“Hank,” Hank corrected.

Connor grinned. “Right. Hank.”

“You’re part of the team, Connor. Remember that.” Hank smiled, then went into the kitchen.

Connor found it a bit easier to think now that they were at Hank’s house, away from Reed’s scent at the precinct. Was that just what Reed smelled like? If it was just his natural human scent, how was Connor able to track it all over the precinct like that? He’d never had this experience with other scents, had he? 

“Hank. Could you assist me in an experiment?”

“Sure, I guess,” Hank called out from the kitchen as Connor approached. “What’s up?”

Hank was peering into the refrigerator, looking for something to eat for dinner. He made a selection and closed the door, holding a carton of takeout and a bottle of beer.

“Can you take the lid off your food and set it on the table? I want to see if I can analyze its scent from a distance,” Connor explained. Perhaps he should be discreet about his ‘malfunctions,’ but he was certain that this one would go over Hank’s head. The human sense of smell was far weaker than his own, malfunction or not, and thus Hank would not be able to draw any conclusions either way. 

“Okay,” Hank said hesitantly, clearly unsure where this was going, and opened the carton, setting it on the dining room table.

Connor went to the living room and inhaled. 

Nothing.

Granted, if it had been heated up, Connor would be able to smell it, but there was at least partial evidence that Gavin’s scent was unique. Come to think of it, Connor had never tracked Hank’s movements or scent, either. He didn’t remember what Hank smelled like at all, despite living with him. Then again, he’d never had a reason to track Hank’s scent to find him. Of course, he hadn’t had a reason for tracking Reed, either. He had simply done it.

“Can I eat now?” Hank asked from the kitchen.

“Go ahead,” Connor called out. “Results inconclusive,” he muttered to himself.

Hank shrugged and put his food in the microwave. 

Connor continued to puzzle over his obsession with Reed’s scent as he and Hank watched several episodes of an old crime series back to back. Connor had long given up on analyzing television shows and instead had learned, as Hank put it, to “shut up and just enjoy shit.” Of course, he still observed glaring inaccuracies, particularly when it came to detective work, but he had also learned that widespread adoption of the internet hadn’t begun until the late 1990s. He supposed he had to forgive errors. And there was much to enjoy in spite of them. But what Connor liked best of all was the time spent with Hank and Sumo.

It almost made him forget about the tension in his groin and the obsession with Reed. Almost.

Connor got undressed for bed and did his best to ignore the rock-hard erection he’d had all evening, gingerly undoing his belt and jeans and easing them down and off, trying to touch himself as little as possible. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants instead and an A-shirt and lay down on the couch, trying to go into stasis and failing.

Then it clicked.

There was something special about Reed. He had no idea what it was. But if he’d never even noticed the way Hank smelled, and they _lived together,_ that could only mean one thing. Reed was special. Reed smelled better than everyone else. 

Reed was also very unpleasant, and he hated Connor. It was inconvenient. This situation was not ideal. Even if it were appropriate to proposition a coworker for sex, Reed would never agree to it, no matter how many sleepless nights Connor was having.

He’d just have to wait it out and suffer.

Connor reached into his pants with a deep groan he could barely keep quiet, and buried his face in his pillow when he came.

For the first time, Connor awakened out of stasis and was immediately aware that he was hard.

This had never happened before, never first thing in the morning like this. Was Reed here? Could Connor smell him somehow?

Connor checked his internal clock. It was 5:51 am. Hank’s alarm didn’t go off until seven, and he had a habit of snoozing it at least three times. Connor had plenty of time to seek relief.

Connor spent a few moments preconstructing possible ideas for where to masturbate before work without getting caught, then decided the shower would be the best place. He’d be guaranteed privacy in there, and he hadn’t cleaned his chassis in a while anyway. He was waterproof and could swim and bathe with no risk of harming his biocomponents. He wasn’t sure if bar soap was the best option for cleaning himself, as it left mineral deposits, but the basic shampoo Hank used would work. 

Connor quietly chose new underwear to dress in and went into the bathroom, closing and locking the door. From what he could tell, Hank was still fast asleep. Sumo might approach the door, but he was likely asleep, too. Connor would take him out when he was done.

Connor undressed, lifting the waistband of his sweatpants up and over his hard cock and easing them down his legs, stepping out of them. He folded them and placed them on top of the toilet seat. He didn’t need to wash his boxer briefs, but he decided to put them in the laundry anyway, since he was going to wash himself. As the silky material slid down his thighs, he shivered. Fuck, he had to get this problem under control, and soon.

Once he was naked, Connor stepped into the tub and turned on the shower, adjusting it to a pleasant temperature. He sighed in contentment, positioning himself under the spray and deactivating his skin and hair.

Connor allowed a minute or so of hot water cascading down his body, then grabbed Hank’s shampoo bottle and poured some into his hand. He rubbed his palms together to make it lather and spread it all over himself. His olfactory sensors took in the data and identified it as Suave brand, Ocean Breeze scent. His database was very thorough when it came to categorizing synthetic fragrances and ones linked to detective work, but Reed’s scent…

Connor rinsed himself off and reactivated his hair and skin, noticing the sensation of water filtering through his hair to his scalp, then glanced around the shower for something to use as lubrication. He spotted a bottle of conditioner of the same brand and fragrance and squeezed some into his hand, setting the bottle down on the side of the tub and spreading it along his hard length. Connor’s head tipped back as he did his best to muffle a groan. It felt so slippery and good, with the heat all over his body. He wished it was Reed’s scent he could smell instead of Ocean Breeze, that Reed was there, in the shower with him, so lush and fragrant and every bit as hard as Connor was.

Connor braced himself with one hand against the wall of the shower and started fisting his cock, bowing his head and trying not to moan, but he couldn’t stop himself. He recalled the scent from his database and opened the data file, the closest he could get to smelling it again, and this time he did moan out loud, his hand speeding up as he jerked himself. Fuck, he couldn’t take much more of this. He wanted to pin Reed down and mount him, thrust into him to the hilt and fuck him furiously until he was finally flooding Reed with his cum, _finally_ satisfied—

Connor groaned deep in his chest as he came, splattering the shower wall and leaning his head against the tile. He dismissed the heat warnings and error messages, then rinsed himself and the wall clean, dried himself off, and dressed for work.

If Hank noticed that the shower had been used, he didn’t say anything. 

At nine a.m., Connor felt overwhelming dread fill him as he realized that his early-morning session was not going to be enough.

He was at his desk, scanning the new cases from his computer terminal when he felt Reed’s scent hit him. His head snapped up immediately, and he saw Reed cross the bullpen and sit down at his desk.

Connor trembled in his seat. Reed was right there, just a few feet away. Connor could smell him. What was the scent? His sweat? Reed didn’t look like he had been working out—

Reed turned in his chair and caught Connor staring, and gave him an irritable expression that bordered on pained. He got up suddenly and left the room. 

Connor got to his feet at once and followed him before he realized what he was doing. He took care to keep far enough behind Reed that he wouldn’t be noticed, but it was so hard to resist. The more Connor followed him, the faster he wanted to walk. He wanted to catch up to Reed, to tackle him onto the ground and fuck him right then and there—

Reed disappeared into the evidence room at the end of the hall, and the security door shut behind him. Connor placed his hand on the security panel, but it wouldn’t open.

Forlorn, Connor stared through the window at Reed, inhaling deeply. As he exhaled, he felt a low growl rumble in the back of his throat. His hard cock strained desperately against the front of his jeans.

Then he blinked, and realized what he had done, and turned immediately and left, walking briskly to the elevator and punching the button for the third floor, where there was a single-occupancy handicapped restroom at the end of a disused hallway.

Connor yanked the door open and slammed it so hard behind him that the frame rattled. With shaking hands he fumbled with the lock, then once the door was securely locked he turned to the nearest wall and thrust his hips against it, putting pressure and friction against the painful erection in his jeans.

Connor growled as he rutted against the wall, low and deep, ignoring the echo his voice made in the restroom with its acoustics. His fingers dug into the drywall, and he realized just in time that they could damage it. He clasped his hands behind his back instead and kept rutting against the wall, then managed to get his belt off, dropping it on the floor. Connor opened his pants, pushed them down to his knees and grabbed his hard cock with such roughness it hurt.

“Fuck,” he grunted, “fucking _fuck,_ fuck you, Reed, fuck you—”

He braced himself with one hand on the wall and wrapped the other around his cock, jerking it hard and fast. He didn’t care how uncomfortable it was with the lack of lubrication. He didn’t care if anyone could hear him. He didn’t care that he’d torn the waistband of his boxer briefs in the effort of getting them down his thighs, and he didn’t care about how scandalously inappropriate it was to be doing this at work, _again._

Connor came, with a big, hot, dripping mess that splattered the wall, and then he sank to the floor in a subdued, miserable groan.

He couldn’t go on like this. This couldn’t continue. He couldn’t waste productive hours chasing Reed through the precinct, couldn’t let Hank or Fowler down, couldn’t risk being fired—or worse, deactivated—for sexual misconduct at work. And he also couldn’t stalk Reed like this, either—it was disrespectful at best and unethical at worst. He had to do something, or else he’d have to turn in his badge and leave.

As Connor cleaned up after himself, he did a quick search of the employee database and found Gavin’s work schedule and home address. As luck would have it, they were off work at the same time. 

This was not an optimal plan, but if nothing else, maybe Gavin could explain why he smelled so good and why Connor’s body couldn’t let it go and couldn’t leave him alone.

_I’ll be working remotely for the rest of the day,_ Connor texted to Hank. _I have a social call after work._

Hank replied in the affirmative, and once Connor was cleaned up, he spent the rest of his shift up in the archives, away from everyone else.

When he was off work, Connor hacked into the GPS in Gavin’s personal vehicle and confirmed that Reed was on his way home.

He knew, from his database and social media search, that Reed was single and lived alone with a cat. He suspected—but could not confirm—that Reed had no plans that evening, and simply had to hope for the best, that Reed would be available, and that he would not simply slam the door in Connor’s face when he arrived.

Connor hailed an autonomous taxi, then got out a few blocks away from Reed’s house and walked the rest of the way.

Reed’s house was about the same size as Hank’s, albeit a little unkempt. He hadn’t kept up with the grass in his front yard, and the aluminum siding could use a pressure wash and a fresh coat of paint, but Connor was not there to provide housekeeping tips. He was there to get an answer, once and for all, for the ailment he was suffering—and to beg Gavin for sex.

That was why he was here, wasn’t it? It hadn’t occurred to Connor until that moment. He suspended several background processes, hoping that clearing his mind palace would help him focus on resisting the urge to tackle Reed the second he opened the door. 

Connor rang the doorbell, and steeled himself. He couldn’t break it down. He couldn’t touch Reed without his consent. He couldn’t—

Gavin opened the door, saw who it was who had arrived, and scowled. “What the fuck do _you_ want, plastic?”

“I need to talk to you,” Connor blurted. “Please, let me in. Just for a little while.”

Gavin hesitated, then looked Connor up and down for a few seconds, as though weighing the decision carefully.

Evidently, Connor passed the test, because the door opened and he was allowed entry. “Shoes off. You better have a damn good explanation for why you showed up unannounced. Don’t make me regret this, Connor.”

Gavin slammed and locked the door as Connor kicked off his shoes.

They made it to the living room, and Connor nearly crashed and bluescreened with how strong Reed’s scent was in the air. His cock was fully erect in seconds, straining against his jeans, and before he realized what he was doing, Connor had leaned closer to Reed, his head lowering to sniff at Reed’s neck.

Surprisingly, it took Reed a few seconds to pull away. He glared up at Connor and took three giant steps back, his arms extended in a ‘halt’ motion. “Explain,” he barked. “Why are you here?”

Connor’s head was swimming, and his eyes were raking over Gavin’s body, sizing up his shorter, compact, tightly muscled frame, but his voice box managed to respond. “You smell so good,” he said before he could stop himself. “What’s wrong with me? I’m malfunctioning, I must be, because I get these—these erections, all the time—” The floodgates opened, and Connor’s processor-to-mouth filter disappeared. “And it’s just you, no one else, and it’s painful and won’t stop and I need it to stop and I can’t ask Hank what to do—please, tell me, what’s going on? Should I turn myself in to CyberLife? Am I broken?” Connor’s entire body was trembling from the sheer effort of holding himself back from Reed. He searched Reed’s face for any kind of understanding. 

Gavin’s eyes widened, and he rubbed at his brow with the heel of one of his hands. “Oh, Jesus Christ,” he muttered, almost to himself.

“What?” Connor barely registered the fact that he was speaking.

“You’re an alpha, Connor,” Gavin answered, sighing with exasperation. “Why the fuck is an _android_ an alpha? I’m gonna have words with that Kamski motherfucker after—after this…”

Reed trailed off, and through Connor’s lust-induced haze, he could see Reed openly staring at his dick. Connor realized his bulging erection was visible, and felt shame and anxiety seize him.

“I’m sorry,” Connor exclaimed, pulling his jacket closed. “I can explain—”

Gavin let out a growl of frustration and closed the gap between them, reaching up to grab the back of Connor’s head and crashing their lips together. He pulled back for one breath and spoke, his voice low and husky. “Just do it. Get it over with. I know what you need, and it’s been a while for me so just do it—”

Connor tackled Reed to the ground instantly, pinning him and rutting against him with a groan. His hands fell to his belt, and he tugged it off and wriggled out of his jeans and boxer briefs. Reed fumbled with unbuttoning his own jeans, and Connor grabbed them at the waist and nearly tore them off. That scent hit him again, and Connor groaned, bowing his head and licking Reed’s neck as he roughly tugged Reed’s underwear down. 

Connor grabbed Reed’s dick and started jerking it, and Reed stared up at him, mouth open and pupils blown, hissing at Connor’s rough touch. “Get off me and let me turn over,” he demanded.

Connor didn’t want to, but he followed the order, and Gavin got on his hands and knees. Suddenly Connor realized where the smell had been coming from—somewhere in Gavin’s groin?—and grabbed Gavin by the shoulders, thrusting his hard cock against the cleft of Gavin’s ass.

“Just fucking get inside me already, you bastard,” Gavin growled, burying his face in the crook of his elbow and backing up into Connor’s thrusts.

Connor lined up his cock with Reed’s hole, sinking in with a long, drawn-out moan. Reed was hot around him, slick and tight, and Connor let out a feral cry as he bottomed out, pulling out and slamming back in so hard it almost hurt. Finally— _finally_ —he was there, he was inside of Reed, mounting him, with one hand on the back of his head and the other on his shoulder, pulling Reed back into him as he thrust forward. The well-wrought musculature in Gavin’s back flexed as they moved together.

“Fuck,” Reed called out, _“fuck,_ that’s good.” He made a needy whimper as Connor, acting solely on instinct, bent down and bit the back of Gavin’s neck with a growl. “Goddamn it, Connor,” Reed groaned, with none of his usual ire.

Connor’s consciousness grew hazy, helpless to the pleasure and need, as he rutted and rutted and bit Gavin’s neck until he drew blood. Data whizzed by in his mind palace, which he completely ignored as he chased the feeling. Gavin’s ass felt like a vice around his cock, so much better and more intense than his own hand, and something about it felt so _right,_ lighting up all his sensors and forcing him to shut down unnecessary system processes to divert more power to his internal cooling systems and synthetic muscles.

Gavin’s praise and curses washed over him as he lost control of his body completely. The only things Connor was aware of were the white-hot pleasure in his groin, the rough, ragged breathing and sounds Reed was making, and the wet smacks as their hips crashed together, hard and fast and brutal.

Time passed, and then out of the haze, Connor heard a choked-out order: “Jerk me off, Connor—”

He wasn’t sure if he had the presence of mind to focus, but he attempted anyway, reaching around to grasp Gavin’s uncut cock in one hand and stroke him hard and fast. Reed was as hard as steel in his hand, and the noise he made as Connor stroked him sounded as much of agony as pleasure. 

Within seconds Gavin was coming unraveled, panting and grunting and letting out a pained curse. “Fuck, Connor, fuck—gonna cum—fucking fill me up, Connor, fill me, you son of a bitch—”

Connor threw his head back with a feral howl as his balls tightened and his vision whited out completely.

When he came to, he was gripping Reed’s hips hard enough to bruise, and his body was buzzing with relief, all of the tension of the previous week finally gone. Reed was gasping for breath, and their mutual thrusts had stilled. Connor felt light, and free, and satisfied—

Connor went to pull out, and found he couldn’t. He tried again, more forcefully this time, and Gavin hissed in pain. “Stop that, you idiot! Let it go down on its own.”

Despite his newfound relief, Connor felt himself start to panic. “We’re stuck!” he shouted.

“Yeah, I know that, dumbass! Just fucking sit still. You’re hurting me.”

Connor slumped. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know what’s happening…”

“Oh, hell,” Gavin muttered into his elbow, and tried to raise his head up. “Fine. Okay. So there are three types of people: alphas, betas, and omegas. Betas are kinda their own thing. It takes an alpha and an omega to breed, and they go through… through a mating season. Christ, I can’t believe I have to explain this to _you,_ of all people,” Gavin grumbled.

“I couldn’t ask Hank!” Connor protested, feeling heat flood his face. It was a good thing Reed couldn’t see him. 

“Anyway,” Gavin pressed on, “an alpha goes into rut, which is why you got all fuck-crazy and started stalking me.”

“You noticed?” Connor blurted, then realized what he’d said. “I… sorry,” he added, feeling shame wash over him once again.

“And omegas go into heat, where we get all crazy wanting to get fucked,” Gavin continued.

Connor’s brow furrowed. “We?”

“Did you not figure that part out? With the pheromones and shit? That’s why you got all crazy. I’m an omega. My heat was only just starting but it came early and I was trying to figure out who the fuck at work triggered it and it turned out to be _you,”_ Gavin complained. Connor could hear the scowl in his voice. “Whatever. It’s done now, and we can be free of this shit for a few months or a year, if we’re lucky.”

“So now that…” Connor pondered. “Now that we’ve had intercourse, the, uh, rut will go away?”

“Yup. You should be good to pull out now, by the way. Your knot has gone down. But for fuck’s sake, be gentle about it. You nearly tore up my fucking insides,” Gavin griped.

Connor let go of Gavin and gently pulled back, and sure enough, he had softened and could separate the two of them. He made a soft sound at the drag on his oversensitive cock as he pulled out, and Gavin winced. Connor sat back on his heels and noted that his cock was wet, covered in a mix of his own ejaculate and whatever had made Gavin all wet inside. “Can I, uh, use your bathroom to clean up?”

“Me first,” Gavin declared, and got to his feet, wobbling slightly, heading deeper into the house to where Connor presumed the bathroom must be.

Connor took a moment to examine his mind palace, and noted that the memory leak he’d been experiencing had been fixed. He must have rebooted when he had an orgasm. Connor was grateful at how much better he felt, but he was deeply embarrassed at his behavior. He had stalked Reed throughout the precinct, jerked off at work twice—

Gavin emerged and motioned to the hallway. “First door on the left. There’s a dingy old washcloth on the counter for you. Don’t touch my good towels.”

“Got it.”

Connor got cleaned up and dressed and returned to the living room. Gavin had dressed and was waiting there for him, standing expectantly and awkwardly, though Connor could see that the tension in his posture was gone.

Connor sighed. “I’m sorry for my behavior, Detective Reed—”

“Just call me Gavin,” he interrupted.

“I sincerely regret—”

“Forget about it. Seriously. You, uh, helped me with a little problem, so… whatever.” Gavin scratched the side of his head. “How about this. I’ll cut you a deal. I’m not keen on fucking human alphas because I don’t want to get knocked up, so, uh…” Gavin handed Connor a slip of paper. “Here’s my number, and the next time one of us is in a bind, we’ll do this again. Don’t get the wrong idea though—I still don’t like you, and we’re not friends. But it seems to me that we’re useful to each other. What do you say?” Gavin looked him in the eye, waiting for a response.

Connor didn’t hesitate. “I can do that. This week has been unbearable and I’d rather not repeat it.”

Gavin snorted. “Yeah. No kidding. You got any idea how little I’ve gotten done in the last few days?”

“Yes,” Connor replied, with a half-smile. “Thank you, Gavin. I’ll be on my way now.”

“All right.”

Gavin walked him to the door. “Hey, uh. Thanks for stopping by. You saved us both a lot of trouble.” He opened the door for Connor. “Good night.”

“Night.”

As Connor stepped into the cold, he realized he had a lot to learn about being human. But if even his enemies could help him learn, he decided he’d be all right.

He hailed an autonomous taxi, and returned to Hank’s house with a spring in his step.


End file.
